


A Spark in the Ashes

by imaginary_golux



Series: The Rising Fire [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Valdemar Series Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Companions (Valdemar), Force-Sensitive Finn, Force-Sensitive Poe Dameron, Gen, M/M, Soulmates, set somewhere before the Last Herald-Mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: The war between Karse and Valdemar is heating up yet again. Herald Poe, spying behind enemy lines, sees something more dangerous than he knows. Sunsguard Finn, marching with his comrades, finds there are lines he cannot cross - and borders he can. And homeless, half-feral Rey finds that there really is somewhere she belongs.If they can find each other and master their Gifts in time, Valdemar might actually have a chance.Beta by my immensely patient Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	1. Chapter 1

Poe’s Foresight has never been strong, but he’s learned to pay attention when it manifests, and it has never been so insistent as it is right now. He swears and knots the precious bundle around Beebee’s neck, then hugs her hard. _:Go,:_ he says. _:I’ll draw them off. Run like the wind, dear heart.:_

Beebee drops her head and nudges him in the chest, gently, blue eyes shining with love, and then wheels and breaks into a canter, heading north for Valdemar and safety. Poe takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and goes south, deliberately breaking branches to leave a clear trail. He’s never been quite sure how an enormous white horse-shaped person can move through a forest without leaving a single mark, but Beebee is a past master at the art; if Poe can just leave a more obvious path, the Karsites on their trail will follow him instead.

And with just a little more luck than Poe is really hoping for, he’ll be able to get far enough ahead of them that he can slip through their clutches and turn own steps north, as well.

*

Finn stands in the ruins of the village, staring at the ash-heaps that used to be houses, and takes slow deep breaths so as not to be sick all over his own boots. When Captain Phasma said they would be destroying an enemy of Karse, Finn had imagined a division of the Valdemaran army, or perhaps even one of the fabled Demon-Riders themselves - not a village full of people who had no idea a Sunsguard division was even _approaching_.

Not a _Karsite_ village.

The terrifying black-robed Sunpriest who gave Captain Phasma her orders had said the village was full of traitors, people willing to sell the secrets of Karse to the heretics of Valdemar. Finn’s not sure what secrets these people could even have _had_. They were shepherds and small farmers, so far as he can tell, and when the division marched into their tiny town they were gathered around their priest, waiting for him to begin the Sun Descending chant.

The black-robe set the village priest on fire, first, before he ordered the soldiers to advance. Finn doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sound of the priest’s screams.

This wasn’t a glorious battle against the forces of evil. This was a _massacre_ , and Finn stands there feeling ill, staring at the ash-heaps and the dreadful limp bodies, and thinks that the worst part is that no one in Sunhame will ever know, or care.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, staring blankly at the devastation, his unstained sword limp in his hand. It’s far too long, he knows, and Captain Phasma is doubtless going to have some harsh words for him as soon as she gets around to it.

He is distracted from the sickening devastation of the village by a commotion behind him, and whirls to see several of his comrades dragging a man from the forest to fling him to his knees before the black-robe. Finn gulps. That _can’t_ be good.

*

“What have we here?” the man in the distinctive, terrifying black robes of a Karsite demon-summoner drawls.

“A spy, sir,” says the soldier on Poe’s right. “We caught him sneaking around in the woods!”

“A spy?” the black-robe asks, and bends down to meet Poe’s eyes. Poe glares back. “Yes,” the black-robe says slowly, “a spy, indeed, but also something more. You have caught one of the Demon-Riders of Valdemar. Tomorrow morning, as the sun rises, he will go to the Fires.”

Poe spits at the black-robe’s feet. “You’re calling _me_ a demon-rider, you demon-summoning piece of shit?” he blurts, too angry and scared to keep a check on his tongue - but also desperate to keep the black-robe’s attention on _him_ , and not on wondering where Poe’s Companion is. Poe can feel Beebee moving ever farther away, ever closer to the border and safety, and the more time she has to run, the more likely it is that she will survive this, even if Poe himself does not, survive and get the information he has so carefully gathered back to the Queen. So - “But then again, maybe you’re crap at demon-summoning,” Poe muses aloud. “I mean, it’s not like you’d be out here in the back end of nowhere if you were any _good_ at it, you’d be back in Sunhame with the rest of your cowardly ilk -”

The black-robe backhands him, and Poe’s teeth clack together as he reels. Well, _that_ hit a nerve.

“Search him,” the black-robe commands, and the soldiers do, rough hands leaving bruises on Poe’s arms, finding nothing but a bit of waybread and an eating knife. The black-robe tosses both onto the fire in the middle of the camp, and nods to the soldiers.

“Show him how the loyal soldiers of Karse welcome spies,” he says, and the soldier on Poe’s right makes a dreadfully cheerful noise, balls up his free hand, and punches Poe as hard as he can in the stomach. Poe doubles over with a gasp of pain. The soldier on his left grunts approvingly and breaks Poe’s nose.

After that it’s a bit of a blur, really, all pain and the desperate effort not to scream, mentally or physically, lest Beebee decide to turn back in a futile effort to rescue him, until at last he’s dumped at the black-robe’s feet again. Poe spits blood and looks up at the black-robe through what are going to be spectacular black eyes if he lives so long, and says, “Well, that was invigorating. I don’t suppose you’d like to get your _own_ hands dirty, you cowardly scum?”

“ _Gag_ him,” the black-robe snarls, and the soldiers drag Poe over to a nearby tree and tie him tightly to it, shoving a rag into his mouth as a makeshift gag. Poe slumps back against the tree and tries desperately to come up with a plan, _something_ that will get him out and away; but while Mindspeech and archery are useful skills for a spy, at least while he’s out in the field, they are slightly less useful once he’s been captured. Poe _can_ pick locks, as it happens, and also get out of most forms of restraints given a little time and some privacy (and usually a fair bit of mental swearing), but lockpicks don’t do him much good against rope, and the soldiers were regrettably very good at tying him to the tree - and even if he was chained, well, several of his fingers are broken, which would make using the lockpicks less...efficient.

...In short, Poe is almost certainly going to die. Well, that’s...not unexpected, it’s not as though Heralds have much expectation of living to ripe old ages and dying peacefully in their beds, but he’s not looking forward to it. Especially not the ‘being burnt alive’ bit. That just sounds...unpleasant.

But Beebee is safe, and the information with her. That’s the important thing, after all.

*

Finn is assigned the mid-watch, mostly as punishment, he suspects; no one likes the mid-watch, after all. But it actually fits his plans nicely, especially because his partner on watch is Slip, who has the usually-frustrating habit of falling asleep leaning against a tree whenever he’s placed on mid-watch. (Which leads to Captain Phasma being furious with him, which leads to him being placed on the mid-watch, which leads to him falling asleep against a tree...Finn sometimes wonders if Slip is going to survive his five-year term, because Captain Phasma might strangle him one of these days.)

Finn can’t sleep for the first watch, though he rolls himself up in his bedroll obediently and lies there staring into the embers of the fire and going over his options desperately. He can do nothing, in which case the Demon-Rider will burn and the village will still be ash and Finn will have to march on to the next village, the next “traitors,” and watch the horror again - will stain his hands with innocent blood, because there’s no way Captain Phasma will let him get away with standing in astonished horror a second time - again and again until he finally snaps and does something foolish like go for the black-robe with his bare hands. Or he can run. But if he runs, the only place close enough to even _try_ to get to is Valdemar, and if he’s going to Valdemar - a Karsite soldier in a Karsite uniform, with no grasp of the bizarre Valdemaran tongue - he’ll need some form of surety, some way to prove he is no enemy to them. Which means he needs the Demon-Rider.

And after all, while the Demon-Rider might _ride_ demons, it wasn’t _him_ who set ravening monsters on the villagers. No, that was a black-robed priest of Karse, and Finn might never again be able to look at the fire of the Sunlord and see anything but the burning houses of the people he was not able to protect.

So really there’s only one choice to make, and that’s been made already - was made, Finn thinks, without him even truly knowing it, in the ashes of a village and the burning bile at the back of his throat and the dreadful laughter of a black-robed demon-summoner as the true priest burned alive.

*

Poe doesn’t so much fall asleep as lapse into uneasy, exhausted dozing, lulled despite his terror and pain by the steady breathing of the sleeping Karsite soldiers and the crackle of the little fire that will shortly become his doom.

He wakes to the feeling of a hand over his mouth and someone’s warm breath against his ear. “This is a rescue,” the unknown person breathes in Karsite, so quietly Poe has to strain to hear it. “I can get you away, but you have to be quiet.”

Poe nods against the person’s hand, which moves immediately to tug the rag out of his mouth. Poe grimaces, working his jaw quietly as the person carefully unties the ropes holding Poe to the tree and then takes Poe’s hand, leading him slowly and quietly away from the camp. Poe concentrates on placing his feet carefully so as not to snap any twigs, following the gentle tugs of his unseen rescuer’s hand, and trying not to breathe loudly or to grunt as walking jars his cracked ribs.

It’s getting on towards false dawn, and Poe can just about see the outline of the trees around them - by the stars, they’re going north, which is reassuring - when his rescuer stops and turns to murmur, “There’s a town nearby. I think I can steal a horse - there’s no way we can outrun them on foot.”

Poe, who is painfully aware that he is maybe half a candlemark from falling flat on his face with exhaustion and injury, nods and leans back against a tree. “Good thought,” he replies softly. “I’ll just - wait here.”

“Don’t die,” his rescuer says. Poe manages, somewhat to his own surprise, to chuckle.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and his rescuer goes padding off out of sight. Poe leans a little harder against his chosen tree and watches the sky lighten slowly from the star-speckled black of deep night to the rose-tinged white of dawn. It’s quite lovely, really, and somehow the fact that Poe rather expected to spend this morning strapped to a stake makes the sight of a dawn in which he is _not_ facing imminent death even more beautiful.

It seems like a long time, but is probably no more than a quarter of a candlemark, before Poe’s rescuer returns, leading a placid-looking brown mare by her halter. There’s no saddle on her, which is going to be...interesting. Poe _can_ ride bareback, of course - catch Herald Wedge letting _anyone_ leave Haven without being able to ride anything, bareback or saddled - but usually he’s not dealing with cracked ribs and broken fingers while doing so.

And then there’s the fact that his rescuer is wearing the uniform of a Karsite infantryman. That’s...slightly unexpected, though maybe the fact that his rescuer hasn’t spoken anything but Karsite should have been a clue. But Poe will deal with that _later_.

“Alright,” Poe says at last, “you’re going to have to help me on.”

His rescuer nods, looking a little nervous. “I don’t actually know how to ride,” he says quietly. “It...never came up.”

Oh joy. Poe takes a deep breath, ribs twinging warningly. “Right,” he says. “So. You help me up and hold me on, and I’ll guide us. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” the Karsite says, nodding, and glances around until he finds a fallen tree of an appropriate size. The horse stands patiently next to the tree when the Karsite drops its halter, and Poe limps over to the log and lets the Karsite help him up onto it and from there, gingerly, onto the back of the longsuffering mare. The Karsite hands Poe the halter’s reins and clambers very carefully up behind Poe, wrapping his arms gently around Poe’s waist. Poe shifts a little, getting as comfortable as possible - at least his rescuer _is_ being gentle, though if anything goes wrong, that grip is going to be exquisitely unpleasant - and leans back slightly into the warm breadth of the Karsite deserter, and kicks the horse carefully into motion. Every hoofstep reverberates through his aching bones, but the horse moves faster than Poe can, so Poe grits his teeth and endures.


	2. Chapter 2

Finn can tell that the Demon-Rider is in bad shape - any Karsite soldier learns to recognize the signs of pain being stubbornly concealed - but as long as he’s not going to say anything, Finn isn’t either. They can’t exactly stop for a healing, after all. It’s a good day’s journey to the border with Valdemar at this slow pace, and the black-robed priest and the soldiers of Finn’s division will be on their trail soon enough. Although -

“I left a trail going west for Rethwellan,” he says quietly, in the Demon-Rider’s ear. “I don’t know if it will fool anyone for long, but -”

“Any candlemark they aren’t on our backtrail is a good one,” the Demon-Rider says approvingly. “Good thinking, buddy.” Finn feels his cheeks go warm at the unwonted praise. Captain Phasma has never been big on _praising_ her soldiers - you know you’ve done a good job if she doesn’t tear verbal strips off you, instead. “What’s your name, anyway?” the Demon-Rider adds. “I’m Poe.”

“Finn,” Finn says. “Are you _really_ a Demon-Rider?”

Poe chuckles, then winces as laughing jars his injuries. “I mean, yes and no.”

Finn blinks at the horse’s ears. “What?”

“Yes, I’m what your people call a Demon-Rider,” Poe elaborates. “But no, my Companion isn’t a demon. She’s not a horse, either, though she looks like one. She’s as smart as a human, and she’s _good_ all through. I mean, she’s got a bit of a temper, but she’s not evil.” He shrugs, just a little, a tiny movement against Finn’s chest. “We’re called _Heralds_ ,” he says, pronouncing the word in Valdemaran slowly so Finn can catch it. “We’re the eyes and hands and voices of the Queen.”

“Oh,” Finn says, and falls silent for a while, thinking about that. It makes sense, actually, if he looks at it cynically enough. The one thing _every_ Karsite fears is the night-walkers, the demons which hunt down heresy in the darkness. By calling the _Heralds_ Demon-Riders, the priests can distract the common folk from the fact that some of the priests really _do_ summon demons.

And after all, if Poe _could_ summon demons to do his bidding, he probably would have done so last night, and wiped out Finn’s entire detachment before they could beat him to a bloody pulp. So there’s that to argue for Poe telling the truth.

And even if he isn’t, well, Finn can’t really undo what he’s already done. Even if he turns up with Poe taken captive again, spouting some story about having seen Poe escape and having gone after him without alerting the rest of the camp - or perhaps something about the Demon-Rider having taken possession of his mind and Finn having only just won free - well, Finn would be lucky if the worst that happened was a beating. More likely he’d end up given to the Fires right alongside Poe.

So whether Poe summons demons or not, Finn’s going to escort him to Valdemar, and hope for the best. There’s really nothing else to do.

*

Poe starts losing time somewhere in the afternoon - blinking and finding that their surroundings have changed completely, that the patient mare must have kept walking for long minutes while Poe lolled back against Finn’s shoulder helplessly. They are still going north, though, judging by the sun, so Finn must be managing to keep them at least mostly on track without Poe’s help. Still. Passing out: generally not a good sign. Poe’s going to need a Healer at some point fairly soon.

Finn has a waterskin, which Poe has been drinking from every hour or so - thank goodness the Karsite had the sense to grab it - but Poe’s had no food for the better part of a day and a half now, and between the cracked ribs and the other assorted bruises, contusions, and general injury, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to still be conscious when they get over the border. Which means he daren’t steer them to a border patrol, because the Valdemaran soldiers are understandably a little bit twitchy right now, and might shoot first and ask questions later if Poe’s not awake to give intelligible answers.

Poe reaches out, carefully, to Beebee. _:Pretty girl, you made it alright?:_

_:Yes,:_ Beebee answers instantly. _:I gave my information to a courier, and they are on their way to Haven. Are you well?:_

_:Not precisely ‘well,’:_ Poe admits. _:But I’m alive, and moving towards Valdemar. You remember that Waystation about ten miles above the border?:_

_:I remember,:_ Beebee says.

_:Can you get there with a Healer by this time tomorrow?:_

_:I will,:_ Beebee replies, and Poe relaxes back against Finn’s broad chest with a faint sigh of relief. “Alright,” he says. “So. Once we get across the border, there’s a place we can go. If you’ll let me, I can put the route in your mind, so that even if I’m unconscious, you can get us there. And then, once we’re there, my Companion will bring a Healer.”

“...Alright,” Finn agrees dubiously. “I guess it would be better for me to have the route in my head instead of just wandering around Valdemar aimlessly. You won’t do anything else?”

“Nothing, my word of honor on it,” Poe says instantly.

“Then go ahead,” Finn says, and Poe reaches out as delicately as he can, hoping desperately that Finn has at least a _little_ Gift, and finds Finn’s mind as open and receptive as he could desire. Very gently, Poe puts the route to the Waystation in Finn’s mind and retreats again.

“Huh,” Finn says thoughtfully. “That was really odd.”

Poe chuckles a little. “That’s Heralds for you,” he says ruefully. “Really odd comes with the territory, I’m afraid.”

*

The Herald gets heavier in Finn’s arms as the sun begins to set, and Finn realizes that he’s passed out again. He’s been drifting in and out since about noon, and Finn is frankly rather astonished that he managed to stay awake long enough to give Finn the route to their shelter - and wasn’t _that_ the oddest sensation Finn’s ever encountered - and apparently arrange for a healer to meet them there, Sunlord only knows how. Another Witch-power, Finn presumes.

Valdemar doesn’t look that different from Karse, really, once they pass what Finn assumes is the border, a low fence of wooden posts, some of which have fallen away to leave gaps large enough for the patient horse to pass through without Finn having to get off and lead it. Which is good, because he doesn’t think he could get himself and Poe back _on_ the horse again, and there’s no way Poe is going to be able to stay on without Finn holding him in place. He’s a limp weight in Finn’s arms, sagging back against him and occasionally whimpering softly when the movement of the horse jars his injuries, and Finn can’t help wincing in sympathy and guilt. He didn’t _help_ beat the Vkandis-blessed crap out of Poe, but he didn’t prevent it, either. Not that he could have. But still.

The horse balks when it starts to get too dark to see, and Finn can’t really blame it. He finds a big rock that’s high enough for him to use it as a step to get down, and does his best to lower Poe to the ground gently. There’s a spring nearby, and he tethers the horse as best he can where it can get to water and grass; it wuffles at him, sounding contented, and he leaves it there and goes back to Poe.

A lean-to doesn’t take that long to put together, and Finn manages to pull up enough grass to make a sort of bed that’s padded enough to hopefully keep Poe from either injuring himself or getting too cold during the night, and moves the half-conscious Herald over to the makeshift bed as gently as he can, then covers Poe with his cloak and goes back to the spring to fill his waterskin.

This isn’t quite how he imagined escaping from Karse was going to go, but hey, he’s not dead yet. That’s got to count for something.

*

Poe wakes up in pain, which he expected, but also warm and relatively comfortable, which he did _not_ expect. He’s on a sort of grass mattress under a lean-to of branches, covered with a thick cloak and nestled against Finn, who radiates heat better than most fireplaces. Finn has his back to Poe and is breathing the slow steady breaths of the deeply asleep, which gives Poe a few minutes to try to get his head together and figure out where they are and how badly hurt he is.

Where he is, as far as he can tell, is Valdemar - he’s not sure _how_ he knows that, but he’s reasonably certain of it - and how badly hurt he is, so far as he can tell, is ‘badly but not fatally,’ especially if he can in fact get to a Healer as soon as possible.

Also he is thirsty as hell.

Beside him, Finn stirs a little and then sits up, turning to look down at Poe as if worried Poe might have died during the night. Which is...fair, actually. Poe doesn’t remember setting up camp, which means he was so completely out of it as to be useless, and therefore pretty clearly very badly hurt.

“Water?” Poe croaks hopefully, and Finn nods and reaches over to grab his waterskin, tilting it so that water trickles into Poe’s mouth slowly enough for him to swallow easily.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe says, when he feels a bit less like his mouth is actually a desert. “How far do we need to go today?”

Finn hums thoughtfully. “I think we’ll be there by noon,” he says at last. “Can you stand, or should I pick you up?”

Poe thinks about it for a minute, and then attempts, gingerly, to sit up. His ribs scream at him. “I think,” he says ruefully, “you’re going to have to lift me.”

Finn shrugs, picks up his cloak and puts it on, and then bends and lifts Poe off the grass mattress without, so far as Poe can tell, much in the way of effort. It hurts like seven hells, of course, but it’s not as bad as it was when Poe tried to stand, so he’ll bear it. “If I put you down on your feet,” Finn says as he straightens, “can you _stay_ standing while I get the horse?”

“Yes,” says Poe, who will manage it if it damned well kills him, and Finn puts him down very carefully next to a convenient tree. Poe leans heavily against the tree so that he won’t sway on his feet, and watches as Finn goes and untethers the horse, which blows discontentedly but follows him over to the big rock without any significant complaints. Finn looks from Poe to the horse to the rock and back a few times, then shrugs to himself and leaves the horse standing patiently beside the rock, walks over to gather Poe up in his arms, and carries him back over to the rock, stepping up onto it and then lowering Poe onto the horse as carefully as he can. Poe braces himself on the horse’s neck while Finn swings into place behind him, and then leans back against Finn, which doesn’t put quite so much weight on his poor broken fingers.

_:We’re on our way again,:_ he tells Beebee.

_:So are we,:_ Beebee replies. _:I have Healer Kalonia with me - we will be there by dusk at the latest.:_

_:Thank you, dear heart,:_ he says, and kicks the horse carefully into motion.

*

Finn manages to keep the horse heading in what the map in his head says is the right direction - that’s still so _odd_ , that Poe could just put information right into his _head_ \- and keeps his arms wrapped firmly around Poe so the Herald doesn’t go listing off the horse - which gets steadily more likely as the hours slip past - and occupies his time by trying to think of what he might do in Valdemar. He doesn’t particularly want to be a soldier anymore - maybe the Valdemaran army is less terrible than the Karsite one, but Finn has no desire to find out - but he doesn’t have very many other skills. Of course, he may well end up sitting in a small room answering questions about Karse for the rest of his life, once he gets Poe wherever Poe is going, and then he might well end up in whatever oubliette the Valdemarans use for possibly-useful Karsite traitors, but assuming he _doesn’t_ end up in a dungeon, he’d like something useful to do.

He’s still pondering as he turns the horse down the narrow track that leads to what Poe called a Waystation, but he’s quickly distracted from his musings when they reach the small clearing surrounding the tiny hut and a young woman emerges from it with a club in her hand and a fierce expression on her face. Finn reins the horse in as quickly as he can, and Poe rouses from his daze to blink down at the unexpected welcome committee.

The woman says something, but it’s in Valdemaran, and Finn suddenly realizes that he speaks not a word of the local language, and if Poe is still unconscious, this is going to go very badly very fast.

But Poe, thank the Sunlord, rouses himself a little from his sprawl against Finn’s chest, and replies.

*

“Go away!” cries a slightly shrill female voice from somewhere around Poe’s knees. “This is my place! Leave me be!”

Poe pries his heavy eyelids open and blinks at the woman standing in front of the Waystation. “This is a Waystation,” he says muzzily. “I’m a Herald. It’s _my_ place.”

“You’re not a Herald - you don’t have a white horse,” the woman retorts.

“She’s coming,” Poe says, still vastly confused. “I _am_ a Herald. I’ve got - got Mindspeech.”

“Prove it,” says the woman, crossing her arms and glowering.

Poe shakes himself a little, letting the pain bring him back to his body from the pleasant floaty place he’s been inhabiting. _:Is this proof enough for you?:_ he asks, perhaps a little louder than he ought to, because Finn startles behind him.

The woman’s jaw drops. “Oh,” she says. “I guess you _are_ a Herald. Um. I - I guess you can come in, then. But don’t touch my stuff!”

Poe nods solemnly. “On my honor as a Herald, I will not,” he promises, and then, in Karsite, to Finn, “She says we can come in.”

“Well, she’s going to need to help me get you down, because I don’t see a convenient stepping stone,” Finn says, sounding more than a little baffled. “You didn’t tell me there was a guardian for the Waystation.”

“There isn’t, usually,” Poe says. “Something strange is going on.”

“Oh,” Finn says, sounding more than a little worried.

“My friend will need your help to get me off the horse,” Poe tells the young woman, who puts her club down and comes over to help hold Poe in place while Finn slides off the horse’s back and then reaches back up to lift Poe down. She opens the door to the Waystation for them, too, and even pulls back the blankets on the little bed. Poe musters a smile for her from somewhere.

“My Companion will be here...soon,” he says faintly, in slurring Valdemaran. “With a Healer. This’s Finn. Saved m’life.” And then he slips inexorably into peaceful darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Finn blinks at their strange hostess, who blinks back at him. He’s not sure how long the stalemate might have lasted, except that his stomach picks that moment to growl pitifully, and the woman shakes herself and walks over to a covered pot above the embers of the fire, taking the cover off to reveal oat porridge. She gestures at Finn to help himself, and Finn gives her a little bow that he hopes shows his gratitude before filling one of the bowls he finds above the hearth with porridge and sitting down beside the bed to eat it one slow, luxurious spoonful at a time. It isn’t terribly good - not even the desperation of hunger can disguise that - but it’s hot and filling and the first food he’s had in nearly two days, and so Finn savors every bite. The woman watches him warily as he eats, but Finn honestly can’t think of any way to reassure her other than to keep out of her way, so he goes out to scrub his bowl in the stream by the Waystation and comes back in to sit beside Poe’s bed and hope the healer comes soon.

It’s been barely a mark, by his reckoning, before there’s the sound of hooves on the path outside, and the woman goes to open the door and let in a middle-aged woman in a green tunic and breeches, who crosses the room immediately to Poe and bends over him. A white horse with bright blue eyes pokes its head in the door, and Finn recoils a little bit at the sight of one of the Demon-Horses, then reminds himself firmly that Poe said they _weren’t_ demons. It doesn’t _look_ demonic, really. It’s shiny, almost, and there’s clear intelligence in those blue eyes - intelligence and worry.

It’s the worry that makes him go over to it, assuming that if Poe can speak Karsite so can his - what did Poe call it - Companion, that was it, and say, “He’ll be alright.”

The Companion looks at him for a long moment, and then a voice _in his head_ says, _:Yes, he will. Healer Kalonia is the finest Healer within a hundred leagues.:_

Finn gulps. Magical horses are one thing - _talking_ magical horses are something else again. But Poe _did_ say his Companion wasn’t a demon.

“He said your name was Beebee?” he ventures tentatively.

_:I am Beatrice. Poe calls me Beebee,:_ the Companion replies. And then, with something like curiosity in her voice - and it is distinctly a _female_ voice, no two ways about it - _:You don’t know much about us.:_

“Nothing at all,” Finn admits. “But Poe says you’re not a demon.” He’s clinging to that, right now, because otherwise he _will_ start worrying.

_:We are not demons,:_ Beatrice says firmly. _:We are as mortal as you are.:_ Well, that’s definite, Finn supposes. _:The first king of Valdemar asked the gods for a way to keep his people safe and his heirs honest, and the gods sent Companions.:_

Finn considers that for a while. A way to keep the rulers honest - what sort of difference might that have made in Karse, he wonders? If all the black-robes had Companions, or some equivalent, would they be less likely to send demons out into the night to hunt out heresy?

“So the - the Heralds ask Companions for advice?” he ventures.

_:Each Companion Chooses the person best suited to be their Herald,:_ Beatrice explains. _:Then we are bound together, and work together, all our days. No one may be a ruler save a Herald. The Companions make sure that our Heralds are pure of soul and true of heart, and the Heralds keep the kingdom safe.:_

“What happens if the Companion makes a mistake?” Finn asks thoughtfully. “People change, right? What if one becomes - not pure of soul?”

_:That is...very rare,:_ Beatrice says, sounding uncomfortable. _:No one who is not pure of soul may be a Herald.:_ Which isn’t _quite_ an answer, but Finn doesn’t push it.

And then the healer stands up from where she has been bent over the bed, looking far wearier than she did when she arrived, and nods in satisfaction, and says something to the young woman, who immediately brings her a bowl of porridge. Beatrice relaxes visibly.

_:She says that Poe will sleep the night through, and wake healed,:_ she tells Finn. _:You should get some rest, too: we will be going to Haven as soon as he wakes and is fit to ride. He must report to the Queen - and you and Rey must come as well.:_

Finn gulps. Report to the Queen of Valdemar, leader of the Demon-Riders? But they aren’t demons, he reminds himself forcibly, and so presumably their queen is not a monster either.

_:You should care for the horse before you sleep,:_ Beatrice adds, and Finn slides out the door past her and goes to do just that.

*

Poe wakes up feeling incredibly refreshed, and not even a little bit in pain. It’s such a pleasant surprise that he keeps his eyes closed and relishes it for a while. When he does eventually open his eyes and roll over, it’s to find that he’s in a bed in a Waystation, and Finn is bent over a pot on the fire stirring slowly, while the young woman Poe can faintly remember challenging them watches intently. Beebee has her head in the door, too, and if Poe is any judge, she’s giving advice, which is...unusual. Companions don’t usually talk to people beside their own Chosen. Which means that Poe’s own faint suspicions about Finn might well be borne out sooner rather than later.

“Good morning,” he says, and both Finn and the young woman jump. He repeats it in Karsite, because it’s not polite to leave Finn out of the conversation.

“Good morning,” Finn says, smiling at him, and Poe realizes, suddenly, what an _astonishingly_ attractive man Finn is. Poe has been a little out of it, the last few days, but now that he’s Healed, he has enough brainpower to spare for things like lust, and _dear gods and havens_ , but that’s a beautiful man. “I made breakfast.”

“...Oh gods please,” Poe says, and comes stumbling out of bed with his hands outstretched. The young woman laughs, which Poe really can’t blame her for.

Finn puts a bowl of porridge into Poe’s hands, and Poe inhales about half of it before he slows down enough to really _taste_ it, and then he blinks down at the bowl in blank confusion. “This is _good_ ,” he says. “How is this good? The crap they keep in Waystations is the blandest stuff in Velgarth!”

Finn laughs. “It’s not as bad as Sunsguard rations,” he says. “And Rey had a couple spices and some salt.”

Poe glances at the young woman, who shrugs, clearly not understanding a word they’ve been saying. “How’d that work, if you can’t talk to each other?” he asks at last.

“Pantomime,” Finn shrugs. “How long do you think it will take me to learn Valdemaran?”

Poe considers it while he eats the rest of his porridge. “Well,” he says at last, “there’s two answers to that.”

Finn sighs, but he’s smiling. “This is going to be like asking whether you’re a Demon-Rider all over again, isn’t it.”

“Sort of. You can learn it the hard way, in which case I’d wager it’ll take you a year at least to be even marginally fluent - the two languages are _not_ related. Or you can trust me to get into your head again. I’ve got a weird talent for languages: if I can get a native speaker’s permission, I can learn the whole thing in a candlemark. I can do it in reverse, too. But it’ll give you one _mother_ of a headache.”

Finn doesn’t take very long to think about it. “Do it,” he says, sitting down on the bed and bracing himself. “Headache’ll be worth it.”

Poe grins and reaches out to rest a gentle hand on Finn’s temple, and closes his eyes, and _reaches_.

*

Finn wakes up with, as promised, a splitting headache. Healer Kalonia is frowning down at him, and Poe is lying at his side.

“Really, Herald Poe,” Healer Kalonia says, as Finn is trying to figure out why she looks so unhappy - and then Finn realizes that she’s speaking Valdemaran _and he’s understanding her_ \- and is so delighted he almost doesn’t hear the next few words, “would it have killed you to wait a day after being healed from a near-fatal set of injuries and exhaustion before attempting a remarkably difficult and energy-consuming exercise of your Gift?”

“...No?” says Poe meekly. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“ _Heralds_ ,” Healer Kalonia sighs, sounding very weary indeed. “Is that tea ready, young lady?”

“Yes,” says the young woman - Beatrice called her Rey, though Finn’s not sure how the Companion knew that - and brings over a pair of steaming mugs. Finn sits up gingerly, head throbbing, and takes one.

“Thank you,” he says, recognizing the bitter scent of willow bark, and sips. It’s too hot, but the thought of having even _slightly_ less of a headache is enough to keep him drinking.

“Welcome,” Rey says, looking a little awkward as she hands Poe the other mug. “What _was_ that?”

Finn blinks. “Poe didn’t...tell you?”

Rey grimaces, which is answer enough. “He touched you and you both fell over,” she says.

“He...taught me Valdemaran,” Finn says, listening to the words as they spill from his mouth. They taste strange, though maybe that’s the willowbark tea, and they’re in _entirely_ the wrong order - the verb is in the wrong place, the nouns are all jumbled around it - but somehow they make sense, now.

Rey gives Poe a slightly awed look, though Finn thinks Poe might not notice, engrossed as he is in his mug of tea. There’s a line between Poe’s eyebrows that speaks of pain, and Finn astonishes himself by wanting to reach over and smooth it away. He takes another sip of tea, instead, and realizes he has very little idea what Poe might have told Rey about him - certainly Poe told _Finn_ almost nothing about _Rey_.

“I’m Finn,” he says, uncurling a hand from his mug and holding it out, realizing too late that she probably won’t know the soldiers’ wrist-clasp which is the common greeting in the Sunsguard. Rey blinks at his hand for a minute, then reaches back tentatively, curling her fingers around his wrist when he takes hers gently in his hand. Her pulse is fast against his palm.

“I’m Rey,” she says, and gives him a shy and startlingly lovely smile.

*

Once Poe’s head stops feeling like it’s about to split in two, he looks up from his empty mug to see Rey and Finn smiling at each other and Healer Kalonia bustling about putting her pack together. “So,” he says cheerfully - the headache is fading and he’s _alive_ and Beebee is here, what’s not to be cheerful about? - “we should be getting on the road to Haven. Rey, you got anything you want to bring?”

“Me?” Rey asks, startling like a frightened deer. “Me, go to Haven?”

“You can’t stay here in the Waystation,” Poe points out gently. And then, even more gently, adds, _:And you have a Gift, which means you should come to Haven to have it trained.:_ He doesn’t mention being Chosen, because that’s for her Companion, when he or she eventually shows up, but Beebee has apparently been letting Rey groom her, which is a damn good sign that someday sooner rather than later there’s going to be a big silver-hooved interruption to Rey’s life.

“Haven’s for - for nobles,” Rey says. “And rich people.”

“And Heralds and their guests, which you will be,” Poe says firmly, carefully not specifying _which_ of those she will be. Honestly, it’ll be easier on her if she’s already in Haven when her Companion comes for her - less galloping cross-country involved.

“I - I -” Rey turns and leaves the Waystation so quickly the proper word is probably ‘fleeing,’ and from outside Beebee tells Poe, _:I’ve got her. She just needs a little time to adjust.:_

_:Thanks, dear heart,:_ Poe replies, and turns to Finn with a shrug. “Beebee’s got her.”

“Alright,” Finn says, a little dubiously. “So. Four of us, one horse and one Companion. How’s this going to work?”

Poe beams at him for remembering that Companions aren’t horses. “I think you and I should probably ride Beebee,” he says after a moment’s thought. “She’s a lot stronger than that poor mare, and Healer Kalonia and Rey are smaller than we are. If we give the mare Beebee’s saddle, they’ll have an easier time of it - it’s built to carry double if it needs to, so they’ll be comfortable enough. I’m afraid that leaves us riding bareback, at least till we get to a decent-sized town and can buy another saddle, but…”

Finn shrugs. “We managed it with you half-dead,” he points out. “Should be easier with you awake.”

Poe grins, and then realizes that he’s set himself up for at least a week of having Finn’s arms around him while he’s actually awake and healthy enough to appreciate it, and has to resist the urge to clap a hand to his face in anticipatory embarrassment. Beebee is never going to stop teasing him. But it _is_ the best way to get all of them onto two horse-shaped creatures, so...he’ll deal.

“There’s a village close enough we could be there by evening if we set out before noon,” Healer Kalonia volunteers. “And I don’t know about _you_ , Herald Poe, but I’d be just as glad to spend the night somewhere with hot water I don’t have to lug myself.”

Poe laughs. “Your wish is my command, fair maiden,” he says, and gets up to help her douse the fire and tidy away the dishes on the mantelpiece.

“Sorry, neither,” Healer Kalonia drawls.


	4. Chapter 4

Finn is, he realizes as they emerge from the treeline to approach the village, simultaneously excited and terrified. There’d been spare clothing in the Waystation, so at least he’s not dressed like a Karsite soldier anymore, but he’s more than a little worried that someone will know, somehow, what he used to be, and he can’t imagine that Karsite soldiers are much loved in Valdemar.

Apparently, though, the fact that Poe is a Herald - and thanks to the Waystation’s supplies, is now wearing the all-white uniform of his calling - overrides anything else, because their group is greeted with broad smiles, and the innkeeper hurries out into the tiny yard to welcome them herself. “Herald, Healer,” she greets them. “What can we do for you and your friends?”

“Two rooms for the night, if you have them,” Poe says, smiling at her, “and stable room for Beebee and our horse, and - _please_ \- hot baths.”

The innkeeper chuckles. “Hot baths you shall have, Herald, and our dinner tonight is roast mutton, if that is acceptable?”

“ _More_ than acceptable - I have been eating oat porridge longer than I care to think about, and roast mutton will be like the ambrosia of the gods,” Poe says, bending to kiss her hand like she’s a court lady, and the innkeeper laughs aloud and swats at him.

“Get on with you, sir Herald,” she says merrily, and goes bustling back into the inn, calling for baths to be filled and rooms to be aired out. Finn helps get Beatrice and the still-unnamed horse settled in the stables, with oats and hay and clean water, and then follows Poe into the inn, which is clean and tidy if rather dimly-lit. There is roast mutton waiting for them, and hot bread to soak up the juices, and roasted vegetables, and Finn makes a very good dinner out of it, though the spices are not quite what he is expecting.

And when the roast mutton has all vanished into the hungry travelers, the innkeeper leads them around the back of the kitchen to an enormous bronze tub, with a cauldron of water heating over the fire, and Finn insists that everyone else go first, because Poe is still recovering and Healer Kalonia was the one who wanted a bath and Rey is looking at the tub with enormous hopeful eyes.

It isn’t as though that’s a hardship, anyway. There’s a comfortable stool beside the fire in the kitchen, and Finn is full and weary and not currently being hunted by demons, so really, life is pretty good.

*

Rey sinks down into steaming water until her chin is just barely above the surface, and closes her eyes, and sighs. This is the first honest-to-gods hot bath she has ever had in her life, so far as she can recall, and at the moment she honestly thinks that the Havens could not provide more pleasure than she is currently experiencing. She is full, she is immersed in blissfully hot water, and she is surrounded by people who apparently mean her no harm - this is unprecedented and _wonderful_ beyond measure.

It’s the largest possible change from her life before - before the Waystation, at any rate. In the Waystation, at least, she was reasonably safe. For six months she’d lived there in isolation, eating oat porridge and cattails and the rabbits she snared in the forest, and anything else she could scrounge, too; no one had come there until Poe and Finn showed up. She honestly hadn’t realized it was a Waystation, had just thought it someone’s abandoned hunting lodge or possibly a hermitage - she hadn’t really cared, either. It had been _safe_ , was the important thing, far enough from Unkar Plutt and his heavy hand that she would, hopefully, never have to see him again.

Herald Poe and Finn don’t scare her the way Unkar Plutt did, which is...something of a surprise. They’re not as _large_ as Unkar Plutt, which might help, but also - also Poe was never _angry_ even when she surprised him and he was half-delirious with pain, and she can’t help remembering the warmth of Finn’s wrist under her fingers and the way he smiled when she said her name. They just don’t feel dangerous, and Rey has learned to trust her instincts. Healer Kalonia is a _Healer_ , so Rey never even bothered to worry about being scared of _her_ \- people don’t become Healers unless they want to keep people safe, after all.

She’s a little less clear on how people become Heralds, though. It involves a Companion, like Beebee, who is wonderful and delightful and glorious, but...beyond that she’s not quite sure. Not that it’s ever going to be relevant to _her_ , but still - she assumes it’s mostly noble sons who are chosen. Nothing to do with her.

And nothing to do with this wonderful, marvelous, absolutely perfect bath. Rey would probably be perfectly happy to stay in here forever, if the water would just stay warm.

*

Poe spends a great deal of the ride back to Haven talking to Finn about Valdemar - the way it’s governed, the function of the Heralds, the history and geography of the areas where Poe has spent time on circuit. Finn listens eagerly, asks intelligent questions, and falls silent for long stretches to consider what Poe has told him, usually emerging from his reverie with yet more queries that Poe is happy to answer. Finn is a wonderful warm weight against Poe’s back, his arms looped comfortably around Poe’s waist, and Beebee takes great pleasure in twitting Poe about how much he enjoys the feeling. Over on the nameless mare, Rey and Healer Kalonia apparently also spend most of their time talking - Healer Kalonia is probably trying to help Rey get more used to some of the things she can expect to find in Haven, like large crowds of people and the presence of royalty - and since Beebee can steer herself perfectly well, Poe doesn’t have to really spend any concentration on the road ahead.

As soon as he’s within range of Haven, though, he reaches out to the Queen’s Own.

_:Got a little time for me, Korr?:_

_:I do,:_ Korr Sella replies, Mindvoice layered with amusement and resignation. _:Council meeting about grain reports. Leia doesn’t need my help.:_

Poe snickers to himself. _:Poor thing,:_ he commiserates.

_:This afternoon we get to talk about mobilizing the army, thanks to the information you sent ahead, so frankly I’ll take the grain reports while I can get them,:_ Korr says grimly. _:But since I don’t think you’re saving me from terminal boredom out of the goodness of your heart, what did you need to tell me?:_

Poe sobers fast. _:I’m bringing two people up from the border with me,:_ he says solemnly. _:If they’re not both going to be Chosen, I will eat that hat you hate so much.:_

_:That’s good news...right?:_ Korr asks.

_:More Chosen are always good news,:_ Poe says. _:But one of them’s a Karsite defector and the other one’s a half-feral refugee from gods know what.:_

_:...Ah,:_ says Korr. _:So what you’re telling me is I need to choose their mentors very, very carefully.:_

_:Among other things, yes,:_ Poe agrees. Korr hums, an odd furry feeling in Poe’s mind, and he can feel her mentally sifting through the ranks of the Heralds, discarding any who might be unsuitable for such a delicate position.

_:I’ll see if your refugee takes to either Testor or Snap,:_ Korr decides at last. _:But a Karsite defector...You may have to take him around yourself, Poe. I can’t think of many of us who could...who could see past that as well as you can.:_

_:Well, he did save my life,:_ Poe says. _:Buys him a hell of a lot of goodwill from me. But, Korr - if you can find him another mentor, do.:_

Korr sends a wordless burst of curiosity. _:It’s not like you to refuse a duty, Poe.:_

_:It’s not every day I meet someone I think might be my lifebond, Korr.:_

Korr responds with a wave of shock and wonder. _:Truly? Oh, how wonderful! But yes, I see what you mean. I’ll do what I can. And - gods’ blessing on you both.:_

_:Thanks, Korr,:_ Poe says, meaning it. _:So. Now that’s the good news out of the way. Let me tell you about the black-robe I met in Karse…:_

*

Finn learns to recognize, fairly quickly, when Poe is using his Mindspeech and when he’s available to talk to. It’s sort of disconcerting to be riding along with his arms around a really absurdly attractive man and know that his companion’s mind is _literally_ somewhere far away, but it does give Finn time to look around at the fields and towns they’re passing through and make mental notes on the ways Valdemar differs from Karse.

The main difference he’s seen so far, honestly, is that the people are a lot less wary. Heralds, as Finn understands it, hold a position in the hierarchy of Valdemar much like that of the highest-ranking priests of Karse: they answer only to the Queen, and have powers not granted to the common folk. But as soon as the people working in the fields of Valdemar see Poe and his Companion, they straighten from their work to wave, or hasten to the roadside to offer friendly words or sometimes fresh fruits from their fields. Finn honestly cannot image a high-ranking priest being offered the same welcome. A demon-summoner might be given the first fruits of a field, yes, but not with broad smiles and kind words - no, the peasants of Karse would offer up the best they had in a desperate effort to placate the priest enough that he would not unleash his demons in the night.

But no one here in Valdemar appears to fear Poe at all. When they stop for the night, at inns along the road, small children come boiling out of the houses in whatever village they have chosen, to cluster around Beebee and offer her apples or oats, stroking her mane and her soft nose when she bends her neck to whicker at them. Poe is received in every inn by grinning innkeepers who offer him the best beds and the finest food, not out of fear - and Finn has lived with fear, seen it on every side, for long enough that he would _know_ if these people feared Poe - but out of genuine delight. The amiable welcome spills over onto Poe’s companions, too, and Finn and Rey, despite being so clearly out of place among the common folk of Valdemar, are received with easy hospitality for the simple reason that they are the companions of a Herald and a Healer, and are therefore assumed to be themselves worthy of all good things.

It’s a genuinely startling feeling. The soldiers of the Sunsguard are not commonly made _welcome_ in Karsite towns. Oh, the inns are open to them, and the innkeepers bring out ale and meat, and Finn has a number of fairly pleasant recollections of sitting on a bench with a mug of mediocre ale and a few slices of rabbit between chunks of bread, watching his comrades arm-wrestle or boast or have drinking contests, but even as the innkeepers bring out bread and ale, they send their pretty daughters into the back to hide, and the common folk of the towns abandon the inn for their own quiet homes, leaving the soldiers holding the field. Not so here. Whatever inn Poe chooses, the common folk of Valdemar come trickling in, asking Poe to tell them the news of the wider world or the tales of Heralds long dead, the children sitting at his feet and watching as wide-eyed as their parents as Poe’s smooth voice draws stories on the air.

“He’s got a touch of Bardic Talent,” Healer Kalonia says one evening, as Poe is regaling the night’s crowd with the tale of a Herald who apparently encountered a gryphon and lived to tell. “Not enough to be a full Bard, but enough for to make him a really good storyteller.”

Finn’s never seen a Bard up close. They don’t perform for common soldiers, not in Karse - so far as Finn knows, any child with even the barest _hint_ of a Bardic talent is taken off to Sunhame to be trained to sing for the Sunlord, or, more probably, for the Sunpriests and the nobles. So Poe might not have _much_ of a Bardic talent, if Healer Kalonia is right, but it’s enough and more than enough for Finn, who cannot tear his eyes from the graceful movement of Poe’s hands, the elegant shape of his lips as he half-sings the tale. It’s the loveliest sight he thinks he’s ever seen.

*

Rey has seen more people in the last week and a half than in the nineteen years of her life before she met Finn and Herald Poe, and she’s not sure how she feels about that. On the one hand, the wider world has hot baths and food she doesn’t have to cook for herself, and Healer Kalonia has been very kind about explaining everything that confuses her, and Finn and Herald Poe have been nothing but kind and friendly to her. On the other hand, she’s so off balance and out of her depth that at this point she’d almost be _grateful_ for a nice simple evening of mending pots or sorting through trash heaps.

And even the increasingly-larger villages and towns, Rey learns as they top a rise and start down the northern slope, have not prepared her for the sheer _vastness_ of the city of Haven. There must be more people there than Rey thought there were in the whole _world_ , and the buildings tower above the streets, three and even four stories tall in some places, and there on a hill in the center of the city rises the palace in an island of greenery, isolated and glorious. If Rey was alone on the nameless mare, she’d have turned it and fled as soon as she saw the city; but she is not, and Healer Kalonia has the reins, so Rey sits there with her fingers probably gripped too tightly around handfuls of Healer Kalonia’s soft green robes and tries not to shake in wonder and terror as they head down the hill towards the great gate and the city of her destiny.

Haven is _loud_ , and the people press around them so closely that it makes Rey twitch, though to their credit they _do_ clearly try to leave room for Beebee and for Healer Kalonia’s horse. One of the merchants even hands an apple up to Rey with a smile and a word of welcome, and gives another to Finn and a third to a very pleased Beebee, who crunches it up with relish. Rey cuts hers in half and gives half to Healer Kalonia, and savors the sweetness of her half, licking the juice from her fingers as they climb higher and higher through the twisting streets.

From the crowded market streets they come to the homes of the wealthier merchants, the houses wedged wall-to-wall each with their little square of courtyard in front, and then from there, as they climb onward, they come to the walled estates of the nobles, with their wrought-iron gates and their blank-faced private guardsman standing patiently at attention. Rey gawks at the little she can see through the gates, the enormous houses rising proudly out of their private gardens. She’s never been so close to nobles before - whoever the lord was of the land where Unkar Plutt lived, he never came anywhere close to the filthy huddle of houses that Rey thought for so long would be her whole world till she died.

Of course, there’s no chance any of those blank-faced guardsmen would let her _in_ , but she can at least catch glimpses. There’s no law against that, surely?

And Herald Poe _is_ taking them to the palace. Rey’s not sure how she feels about that - maybe she’ll be able to bunk down in the stables with the nameless mare, where at least she’ll feel slightly less out of place? - but maybe she’ll see a real live noble up close. Maybe even - maybe even the _Queen_. Though that’s about as likely as suddenly learning to fly.

They round yet another corner - the streets of Haven are as twisty as a snake’s back - and there ahead of them is, wonder of wonders, a straight section of road, leading inexorably to a pair of wide, elaborate gates with men in royal blue uniforms standing guard upon them…

And a pair of Companions standing framed in the gateway, looking as beautiful and welcoming as - as a hot bath.

Rey slips down off the mare without really realizing what she’s doing, drawn by the beauty of the waiting Companions. Beside her, she notices with the tiny portion of her mind not utterly distracted, Finn is doing the same thing, and they walk forward side-by-side.

The Companion closer to Rey is a stallion, she sees as she draws nearer, and as far as she’s concerned he’s the handsomest stallion in the world, shining and glorious. And then, as she reaches his side and puts a hand on his gleaming white neck, he bends his head around and she falls into his wide blue eyes.

_:Hello_ , _:_ says a voice in her mind. _:My name is Saker, and I Choose you, and I will never leave you.:_

Rey bursts into joyful tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late chapter; I spent yesterday traveling, and it took more out of me than expected. 10+ hours of sleep and I'm doing much better!


	5. Chapter 5

Poe watches as Finn and Rey walk, almost seeming spell-bound, up towards the waiting Companions. _:Told you,:_ he says quietly to Korr Sella, whose amusement shivers through his mind.

_:Yes, yes, you were right,:_ she replies. _:Two brand-new Herald-Trainees, just for me. You bring the nicest gifts, Poe Dameron.:_

_:Any luck finding them mentors?:_ Poe asks hopefully.

_:We’ve decided to wait and see what Gifts they have,:_ Korr replies. _:But Snap and Pava have agreed to show them around a little this afternoon while you’re busy telling me and Her Majesty everything we need to know.:_

_:My thanks_ , _:_ Poe says, and turns his attention again to his young friends. They are gazing into their new Companions’ eyes, as they should be. Poe can’t help remembering his own Choosing, and the absolute wonder of the endless love in Beebee’s gaze.

_:My Chosen,:_ Beebee says softly in his mind. _:Brave and bright and_ good _, as so few people are. Out of all the world and its people, still I would Choose no other man than you.:_

_:Dear heart,:_ Poe replies, grinning sappily at her ears, _:nor would I have any Companion but you, even if Taver himself wanted me.:_

_:And that is as it should be,:_ Beebee says smugly. Poe’s grin widens.

_:Yes,:_ he says. _:Yes, it is.:_

*

Finn isn’t sure how long he stands there staring into his Companion’s eyes. It could be bare seconds; it could be days. He doesn’t care. He is surrounded, embraced, utterly submerged in endless, unconditional devotion; and through the undying love he hears, not with his ears but with his _mind_ , the same way he heard Poe back at the Waystation, a soft voice saying, _:My name is Ida, and I Choose you.:_

_:Hello, Ida,:_ Finn replies, marveling. He doesn’t notice that he’s not speaking aloud - doesn’t realize it until much later, in fact. _:Choose me for what?:_

_:To be a Herald, and defend the innocent against the wicked, and the weak against the strong,:_ Ida replies. _:To uphold the law when it is just, and speak against it when it is unjust. To stand as a shield before those who must be defended, and to strike out as a sword against those who come as warlords to conquer the peaceful.:_

_:Yes,:_ Finn says, _:Yes. I will do that. With all my heart, for all my life, till death take me - I will do that.:_

_:Then for all our lives I will be beside you, and I will never leave you,:_ Ida tells him, and Finn leans against the warmth of her gleaming shoulder and loses himself in the glory of her eyes and knows that, no matter what else might happen, he will always have Ida by his side.

_:You should probably greet the Queen’s Own,:_ Ida says after some uncounted time. Finn pulls himself reluctantly from her gaze and turns to find a tall woman with brown skin and ruthlessly tamed dark hair, about the same age as Poe, smiling at him.

“You must be Finn,” she says, and offers a hand. Finn takes her wrist in a soldier’s greeting, oddly reassured when she grips his arm firmly and without hesitation. “I’m Korr Sella, the Queen’s Own, and this,” she waves off to one side, and Finn turns to see a truly _remarkable_ Companion, glorious as the rising sun, “is Taver, the Grove-Born. Which will all be explained later.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn says.

“Call me Korr,” the Queen’s Own says easily. “There’s very little formality among Heralds, and you and your friend are now Herald-Trainees. Welcome to our family.” Rey is still lost in her Companion’s eyes. Finn can’t blame her. He has never felt _anything_ like that sea of unconditional love.

“She’s Rey,” he says, and Rey startles a little at her name and turns to smile hesitantly at Korr.

*

Rey stares at everything as Korr Sella leads them across the courtyard and around one corner of the palace, towards a wide green space surrounded by a low fence. “This is Companions’ Field,” Korr Sella tells them, and Saker nudges Rey’s shoulder gently before hopping over the fence onto the grass, where she is swiftly joined by Finn’s Ida and Poe’s Beebee.

_:Go on - our hooves mar the palace floors, but I will be here waiting whenever you need me,:_ Saker encourages her.

Rey gulps, but she follows Korr Sella and Finn and Poe - if she can call the Queen’s Own by her given name, surely she needn’t think of Herald Poe by his title anymore, right? - into the palace. She’s never seen anything quite like the wide corridors and beautifully polished wood floors, and she can certainly understand why Saker said his hooves would mar them.

“This is the Heralds’ Wing,” Korr explains. “All of us have rooms here. You’ll be given temporary quarters until we find you mentors, and then you’ll be given rooms next to theirs, so they can help you if your Gifts start acting up in the middle of the night, which _does_ happen. Have you any idea what your Gifts _are_ , by the way?”

Rey and Finn glance at each other in confusion. “I’m not even sure what the _options_ are,” Finn admits, and Rey is grateful he said it, because otherwise she was going to have to.

“Mindspeech, Farsight, Foresight, Fetching,” Korr says. Poe grins over his shoulder at them.

“Fire-Starting, Animal Mindspeech, Touch-Reading, Empathy,” he adds, “though those are rarer.”

“Mage-Gift,” says a new voice, and they all turn to see an old man with a truly remarkable beard standing in a doorway, smiling.

“...Ah,” says Korr, sounding quite surprised. “Well. I..see. Rey, Finn, this is Herald-Mage Luke Skywalker, head of the Herald-Mages.”

“Welcome to Haven, and to the Circle,” Herald-Mage Luke Skywalker says solemnly. Rey is trying hard not to boggle. She has _heard_ of Herald-Mage Luke Skywalker - who hasn’t? He is the hero who struck down the Karsite demon-summoner Vader and won the last war with Karse, the man who has the very lightning at his fingertips. “And welcome to the ranks of the Herald-Mages, my young friends.” He nods to Korr. “I will stand mentor for them both,” he tells her. Beside Rey, Finn goes very still. “It is too long since I had a student - and I think that you will both do very well.” He gives them another broad smile and then vanishes back into his room, the door _snicking_ shut behind him, and Rey and Finn exchange a somewhat panicked glance.

“ _Skywalker_ ,” Finn hisses. “The man who called lightning out of the sky to strike down the demon king! The man who laughed in the face of the Son of the Sun and bade him call his dogs to heel! The man who defeated _three demon-summoners in single combat!_ _He’s_ going to be our _mentor?_ ”

Rey nods weakly. “Skywalker,” she replies, just as quietly. “The man who fought three days and three nights against a demon horde and _won._ The man who walked through a forest fire and was not burnt. The man who -” she gulps, remembering the white kidskin glove on Skywalker’s right hand, “who lost his hand to a demon and killed it anyway.”

“Vkandis help us,” Finn says faintly.

*

Poe throws his arms over his young friends’ shoulders and steers them away from their terrified contemplation of Herald-Mage Skywalker’s door. “Buddies, remember to breathe,” he says cheerfully. “He’s really not that bad - kind of a sweetheart, really. And hey! You’re going to be Herald-Mages! That’s pretty awesome!”

Finn gives him a sort of wide-eyed, panicked look. “Seriously, ask your Companions,” Poe encourages him. “They know. Skywalker’s not some sort of boogeyman, I promise. Powerful, yes, but he’s _nothing_ like those demon-summoning Sunpriest assholes.”

Both Finn and Rey get the sort of abstracted look that every Herald learns to recognize as the sign of being deep in Mindspeech, and Poe exchanges a slightly frazzled look with Korr and steers his friends down the hall to a pair of empty rooms not too far from Skywalker’s quarters.

“Have I led you wrong yet?” Poe asks gently as they both shake themselves a little and come back to their bodies.

“No,” Finn says instantly, smiling at him.

“...No,” Rey admits, frowning a little. “Though you didn’t tell us we’d be _Chosen_.”

Poe shrugs. “Guilty,” he admits. “But I’ve got two excuses: first, I wasn’t _sure_ \- nobody’s sure till it _happens._ I just had a damned good hunch. And second, tell me you wouldn’t have run like hell if I’d told you straight out.”

Rey grimaces a little, then shrugs, conceding the point. Finn sighs.

“Fair,” he says. “It wasn’t that long ago I thought you were all Demon-Riders, after all.” His expression turns to a rather soppy smile. “I mean, Ida would have cured me of that, but I probably would have run screaming from her first, and that would have been...awkward.”

Poe can’t help grinning. “You wouldn’t’ve run,” he says. “You’d’ve stood your ground. There’s more courage in your little finger than in some whole _families_ I could name.” Korr nudges him sharply, and Poe startles - his adoration is showing. Oops.

“Anyhow!” he says, shaking himself a little. “So these’ll be your rooms while you’re Trainees, and I’ll be happy to show you where the Housekeeper is and help you get your uniforms, and then I think it might be luncheon?” He glances over at Korr, who nods.

“We don’t need you to report till this afternoon, Poe,” she says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Snap and Pava will join you for luncheon, and you can leave your ducklings with them.”

“I’m not a duckling,” Rey says, giving Korr a rather pointed look.

“Beg pardon,” Korr says, grinning a little, and Poe looks from Korr to Rey and back again and blinks. Huh. _:Beebee, am I seeing -?:_

_:Not that it’s any of our business, but yes, I think our Queen’s Own has taken a liking to our newest Herald-Mage trainee,:_ Beebee says cheerfully. _:Or at least, Taver thinks so. He’s very smug, actually. Something about a bet he thinks he’s going to win.:_

_:Huh,:_ says Poe, and mentally shrugs, turning his attention back to the two newest members of the Heraldic Circle. “So! Uniforms and luncheon. Shall we?”

“Lead on,” Finn says, smiling gamely. “Though - do we have to wear the all-white in the field? I mean, it’s a little...obvious. Makes a good target.”

Poe laughs as he leads them down the corridor towards Housekeeping. “Well, _you_ lucky creatures get to wear Greys until you’re fully trained,” he says. “But then, yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to wear what Weaponsmaster Bacca calls ‘oh shoot me now’ uniforms unless you’re undercover in Karse, or something similar. Sorry.” He shrugs. “If it helps, they’re very comfortable!”

Finn sighs, but he’s smiling, so Poe counts it as a win.

*

Finn is still trying to wrap his mind around the morning’s events as he trails Poe through the palace corridors. He’s been Chosen to be a Herald - and not just _any_ Herald, but a Herald-Mage, one of the lightning-callers, the warriors who face the Sunpriest demon-summoners face to face. The most feared Demon-Riders of them all.

_:I am not a demon,:_ Ida points out gently.

_:I know, dearest,:_ Finn says. _:It’s just...a lot to take in, you know?:_

_:I know,:_ Ida replies, and her laughter is a gentle rill of joy in Finn’s mind. _:It is always a challenge for the new Chosen, but you and Rey may have a little more to deal with than most of our new Trainees. You, because you are from Karse, and her because - well - she is nearly as foreign as you are, in a way, for all that she was born and raised in Valdemar.:_ Finn gets a distinct sense of sadness. _:Even Heralds cannot be everywhere, and though we know_ now _of the merchant Unkar Plutt and his foulness, we did not know before Rey came to us. Even now, the Herald on circuit in that area has been sent to...deal with the matter.:_

_:You may not have known, but you are dealing with it now,:_ Finn says firmly. _:That’s what matters.:_

_:We_ should _have known,:_ Ida says sadly. _:That is what Heralds and Companions are_ for. _:_

_:Then now you know what to look for,:_ Finn points out. _:Next time, you’ll -_ we’ll _\- spot it faster.:_

He gets the sense that Ida is immensely pleased with him, and can’t help smiling. In front of him, Poe knocks on a door with a brass plaque reading _Housekeeper_ and is summoned in immediately.

The housekeeper is a brisk, no-nonsense woman of middle years, who looks Rey and Finn up and down and then goes to rummage through a truly enormous closet, emerging with a heap of grey clothing, half of which she hands to each of them. She takes tracings of their feet to send to the cobblers, and adds little bags of soap and hairbrushes to the heaps in their arms.

“Herald Poe will show you where the common baths are,” she tells them, sounding very satisfied. “And there’ll be boots for you within the week, I’m sure.” She hands Rey a pair of soft moccasins with a sharp glance at the tattered shoes on the young woman’s feet, and nods briskly. “We expect you to keep your rooms clean, but the common areas will be cleaned for you. More uniforms will be delivered to your rooms every week. Come to me if you need more than _that_ , or need anything special. Clear?”

“Clear, ma’am,” Finn says firmly. Rey nods.

“Good,” says the Housekeeper. “Welcome to Haven!”

“Thank you,” Finn says, and surprises himself by meaning it.


	6. Chapter 6

Rey looks at the spread of food in front of her and wonders if she has actually died and gone to the Havens. It’s a lot more likely than having been Chosen as a Herald-Mage is, actually.

_:You are not dead,:_ Saker says fiercely. _:You are my Chosen.:_

But of course a figment of her imagination - or an angel, if such things exist - would likely say the same. Rey shrugs mentally and applies herself to the food. Bread still steaming as she breaks it open, sweet butter and four kinds of jam, slices of baked ham and roasted beef, bowls upon bowls of vegetables - even the inns they have stopped at have not had anything _like_ such a magnificence of food. Rey paces herself. She learned years ago that eating too much, when too much was on offer, would end painfully, and so as much as she would _like_ to devour everything in front of her, she gathers about as much as she thinks she can safely eat and scootches down the table a little ways to put some space between herself and Finn and Poe. To be fair, the men have never even _hinted_ at trying to take her food from her, but old habits die hard.

“So!” Poe says, at about the time Rey is starting to slow down a little to savor the tart apple with sharp cheese which she has decided is dessert. “Herald-Mage Skywalker is going to be your mentor, of course, but for formal classes you’ll be going over to Bardic. History and maths and geography, that sort of thing - all the nitpicky bits.” He grins, then looks startled by a sudden thought. “Come to think of it - can both of you read and write Valdemaran? I don’t know if I gave you that along with the spoken language,” he says to Finn, who frowns.

“I can,” Rey says. She’s not _good_ at it, precisely, but she can read well enough, and if her scrawl is untidy and unpracticed, at least it’s legible.

“Um,” says Finn. “I’m...not sure.”

“Well, we’ll find out, and if the answer’s no, just tell me and I’ll give you that too,” Poe says easily. “If you don’t mind the headache, at least.”

“The headache’s not so bad,” Finn says, and Rey suspects he’s lying through his teeth.

Poe’s about to say something else when a pair of strangers in Heraldic white sit down on either side of him: a big man with a dark beard and a cheerful smile, and a small dark-haired woman who winks at Rey mischievously before tousling Poe’s hair vigorously.

“Snap! Jess!” Poe says, sounding delighted, and slings an arm around each of them, pulling them into a sideways hug. Rey can’t help giggling at the look of mock indignation on the bearded man’s face. “Rey, Finn, these are Herald Snap Wexley and Herald Jess Pava, my best and oldest friends. Snap, Jess, these are our newest Herald-Mage Trainees, Finn and Rey.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Jess says cheerfully. “Korr asked us to show you around while this reprobate gives a proper report to the Queen and her Council.”

“Thank you,” Finn says politely. Rey nods, though she can’t help feeling a little twitchy. She knows Poe, at least, from their weeks on the road - she trusts that he won’t harm her. But she doesn’t know _these_ Heralds at all.

_:They are Heralds, and so they are your kinfolk,:_ Saker says firmly. _:No Herald will ever do you harm.:_

Rey’s still dubious, but Saker wouldn’t lie to her, so she resolves to give these Heralds the benefit of the doubt, at least.

*

Poe doesn’t particularly want to leave Finn and Rey, even knowing that Snap and Jess will look out for them, but he _does_ have important information for the Queen and her Council, and he is a Herald: duty always comes first. So he claps his young friends on the shoulder and heads for the Council chambers with his best cheerful look pasted on his face - no point letting everyone in the halls know that as far as he and Beebee could tell, Karse is gearing up for yet another nasty little war.

His presentation to the Council is just as long and unpleasant as he expected it to be, and he has to go over every detail of what he saw and learned multiple times, including the description of the black-robe who had apparently just burned one of his _own_ villages for some inexplicable reason, and by the time Queen Leia finally nods at him and dismisses him, it’s dusk. Poe heads for the dining halls, weary and wrung-out, and finds that Snap and Jess have saved him a place across from the rather baffled-looking newest Trainees.

“They met Weaponsmaster Bacca,” Jess explains as Poe slides into the open seat. Snap passes him a basket of steaming bread rolls, and Poe takes one gingerly and accepts the bowl of honeyed butter from Jess.

“That’ll surprise anyone,” Poe agrees, grinning at Finn and Rey. “Did he run you through your paces, then, buddies?”

“He did,” Finn confirms. “He said I’m decent with a sword but need to work on my archery.”

“He said I’ve got a lot to learn,” Rey says ruefully. “But I’m apparently aggressive enough. I didn’t know there was anyone that tall in the _world_.”

Poe chuckles. “Weaponsmaster’s from a long way away,” he says, shrugging. “No one’s quite sure where. His native language is pretty near unpronounceable. Still, he’s damn good at his job, and you’ll learn a lot from him. Did you get your class schedules worked out yet?”

“Sort of,” Finn says. “It turns out I can’t read Valdemaran, and Rey’s kind of...shaky.”

Rey grimaces but doesn’t disagree.

“Well, if you’re willing to deal with the headaches, I can fix that,” Poe says. “And I don’t have anything else to do tonight, if you want to get it over with.”

“Yes, please,” Finn says.

“...Saker says he can help me,” Rey says. “No offense, Poe, but - I don’t - I don’t want anyone else in my head.”

“Fair,” Poe says, nodding at her. “If Saker says he can help, then you probably don’t need me anyway.”

“Ida says it’ll be faster if you help me,” Finn says after a moment of abstracted thought. “And - um - she’s amused about something but won’t tell me what. Huh. Is that normal?”

“Yeah,” Snap says wryly. “Companions like to have their little jokes. You’ll find out eventually.”

“Some of them have better senses of humor than others,” Jess adds. “Blue likes practical jokes, for instance.”

“Yes,” Snap says grimly. “Yes, she does.”

Poe snickers. The last prank Blue pulled left Snap’s Bones dyed _green_ for the three days it took the dye to wear off the Companion’s pelt. No one’s quite sure how Blue pulled that one off, though one of the stablehands _must_ have helped.

The rest of the dinner is given over to discussions of Blue’s most spectacular pranks, and Poe watches as Finn and Rey both relax, and knows his smile is more than a little silly, but in some odd sense these are _his_ Trainees, and he’s glad to see them starting to get accustomed to life in the Circle - to the idea that they are, at last, among friends.

*

Finn flops down on the bed in the room he’s been given - a whole room of his own! Soldiers in the Karsite army have a bunk apiece, if they’re _lucky_ \- and lets the cool air and the soft pillow beneath his head start to soothe the splitting headache throbbing behind his eyes. He _can_ read Valdemaran now, and this headache is not as bad as the one from learning to _speak_ Valdemaran, but it’s not fun, and the willow-bark tea has only taken the edge off.

_:Is every day going to be this complicated?:_ he asks Ida plaintively.

_:Yes and no_ , _:_ she replies, and Finn stifles a laugh.

_:You and Poe_ , _:_ he says. _:Can’t you give a straight answer?:_

_:Valdemar will become less confusing with time, and being a Herald will become second nature,:_ Ida explains. _:But Heralds have to deal with the most complicated situations that come up, including ones that have tangled ethical answers, so you will probably be dealing with complications for the rest of your life, my dear.:_

Finn sighs. _:Of course,:_ he says. Talking to Ida like this, using nothing but his mind, is a strange feeling, but _right_ in some indefinable way. Ida herself is a constant warmth in the back of his mind, almost as though she is always standing at his shoulder, ready to protect and advise him.

_:Ida_ , _:_ he says after a few minutes, when his headache has nearly ebbed away, _:How is being a Herald-Mage different from being a Herald?:_

Ida hums, which is an odd furry feeling in Finn’s head. _:Herald-Mages spend more time in combat,:_ she says at last. _:They are too rare to send out on circuit, the way regular Heralds are, but are called in for things which the regular Heralds cannot easily deal with. Enemy mages, for instance; magical creatures; natural disasters.:_

_:So I’m going to be busy pretty much all the time, and in danger most of it,:_ Finn concludes. Oddly, he doesn’t think he minds. He likes _doing_ things, rather than sitting around waiting, and he doesn’t mind danger. And he’ll be protecting people, doing good with the powers he apparently possesses, rather than oppressing them.

_:Yes,:_ Ida agrees. _:That’s the life of a Herald.:_

Finn lets that idea settle into his bones. Busy, and in danger, and doing it for the sake of people who can’t protect themselves. For people who _need_ his help, and smile at him when he rides past, and do not cringe from him in fear.

_:Alright_ , _:_ he tells Ida. _:I can do that_. _:_

_:I know you can,:_ Ida says contentedly. _:That is why you are my Chosen.:_

*

Rey wakes with the dawn, and slips out of the halls of the Heralds’ Wing to the edge of Companions’ Field. Saker is waiting for her, and she clambers up the fence and onto his back, clinging to his mane as he sets off across the field at a brisk canter, the wind turning her hair into a probably-irredeemable tangle.

She feels rather less jittery when they’ve done a full circuit of the field, leaping the river twice and weaving through half a dozen copses of trees. _:Thank you,:_ she says, marveling as she does so that she can use _Mindspeech_ , of all things.

_:My pleasure, Chosen,:_ Saker says warmly.

_:You know I don’t know how to be a Herald,:_ she points out. She doesn’t want to give this up - to give _Saker_ up - but she has to make it clear to him that she’s not - not a Herald, not really.

_:If you see someone hurting a child, what would you do?:_ Saker asks.

_:Stop him,:_ Rey says immediately, because she _would_. That’s why she had to leave her village - Unkar Plutt was beating a child, and Rey broke his kneecaps, and then she couldn’t stay anymore.

_:If a merchant is cheating his customers, would you stop him?:_ Saker asks.

_:Yes, of course,:_ Rey says. She doesn’t have any patience for the sort of asshole who shorts his customers or lies about his products.

_:If you saw bandits attacking a village, what would you do?:_ Saker asks.

_:Protect them or go for help,:_ Rey says, frowning. _:Why are you asking me these things?:_

_:Because you already know the essential parts of being a Herald,:_ Saker says calmly. _:You protect the weak and stand for justice. The lessons you will get here will only give you the tools to do what you already do. You are already a Herald, my Chosen - it is in your heart and soul, not your skills.:_

Rey thinks about that for a while. _:Oh,:_ she says at last. _:Alright then.:_

_:Go have some breakfast, Chosen,:_ Saker says, sounding warm and amused. _:You have a full day today. I will be here if you need me.:_

_:Thank you,:_ Rey says, and slides down Saker’s shoulder, stumbling into the Heralds’ Wing on legs unused to quite so much bareback riding. Jess finds her just inside the doors and ushers her into the bathing room and into a deep copper tub full of blissfully warm water, and sits behind Rey combing her hair and swearing quietly while Rey basks in the glories of a hot bath.

“Next time,” Jess says after a while, “braid your hair before you go for a ride, yeah? Because this is kind of ridiculous.”

“I will,” Rey promises ruefully. “I just - needed -”

“Time with your Companion, yeah, I get it,” Jess says easily. “No one here’s going to tell you not to go be with Saker. I’d go mad if someone tried to keep me from Blue. Even if you’re in the middle of a lesson, or something, just say you need time with Saker, and they’ll let you go. We all understand.”

“Thank you,” Rey says, and Jess hums approvingly and runs a hand over Rey’s untangled hair.

“There you go, lass,” she says warmly. “Now, breakfast, and then your first day of lessons.”

“I’m ready,” Rey says firmly. And she is.

**Author's Note:**

> This will update Mondays until finished. I am on tumblr as imaginarygolux and on pillowfort as ImaginaryGolux; drop on by!


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